Writer's Block Strikes Again!
by Queen Kez the Wicked
Summary: *Chapter Six Up!* The authors of the Newsie world (that's all of us!) are hit with a severe case of Writer's Block... It's up to Race and Blink to save the day! Feat. Familiar faces of FFN and the NML! R&R me deahs.
1. The Force Awakens!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

A slightly deranged fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

ONE: THE FORCE AWAKENS

****

A/N: And so it begins. FFN was mean and took it down because of the casting call. Grr. Arrg. But anyway! READ REVIEW AND ENJOY! Especially the review part.

+

It was the coldness that woke me. I sat up, careful not to hit my head on Blink's bunk, and shivered. My breath came out in clouds and I could feel goosebumps running along my whole body. It was a bit unsettling - considering it was July. I swear, it's been July for about five years… Why is it always July? 1899 has the strangest never-ending summer.

Although no one else had woken up, the all seemed to sense the change. Blink kept shifting above me and Snipe was whimpering. Across the room Swifty was pulling his blankets tighter. 

Then the pressure came.

It's impossible to explain. It was like the room had grown instantly darker, like the moon had been snuffed out or something. Everything outside, all the soft sounds of the city at night - completely silent. I felt something pressing against my mind… Something terribly evil. Just when I could bear it no longer, a small, fast moving, stone block found my head and I immediately lost conscious. 

+

I could tell I was dreaming because of the girls. After all, it was pretty hard to fly into the upper window of the Lodging House - I had tried a few times before, but only made it once… When I was dreaming. Oh, and they were glowing too. Dead giveaway. Both had warm smiles on their faces as they glided towards me, arms outstretched. I felt my jaw drop open… _Angels in th-_WHUMP! I blinked, startled, and looked again. The first girl - blonde - was in a face down heap on the floor. The other, slightly taller with brown hair pulled back, was bent over and doing a poor job of smothering her laughter.

"WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT THE FUCKING EXTENSION CORD?!" My eyes widened. Such language! I hadn't heard a lady talk like that since… Well, there was the one girl - the one who dressed like a boy and played a mean game of poker... And smoked... And mouthed off, and-

"Oh, quit complaining and get up," the second girl scolded, recovering from her fit. The blonde glared at her companion and kneeled, then yanked something that looked like a thin rubber snake from her side. The lovely, glowing aura that had surrounded the two disappeared. I sighed in disappointment. They resumed advancing, bickering amongst themselves.

"See, look! We lost his attention. I told you we needed to be glowing!" the blonde was complaining. 

"We did not lose his attention! Look! He's right there, awake, alert, and staring at my…" the other girl clapped her hands sharply. I raised my eyes at the noise. "Eyes up here, pal," she snapped, pointing to her own eyes. I stuttered something and blushed furiously, trying my best to keep my vision… Up. There was no doubt now that they were talking about me - I tried to retreat under my blankets, only to discover that I had none. The blonde cackled and hung my blanket over her shoulder. Her eyes held a challenge I wasn't about to consider… Well… Then again…

"KEZA! Will you quit flirting with Race? We have a job to do here!" The blonde - er - Keza, glared at her friend, but gave my blanket back. 

"Right," she said, sounding bored. "I'm Keza, that's Falco, the world is in danger, blah blah, save it for us cause we're too lazy, yadda yadda yadda," she smiled sweetly at Falco, who proceeded to smack her. "Hey! Ow…"

"Look Keza, it's Pie-eater!" Keza squealed and ran off. Falco grinned innocently at me. "Ok. So. Let me explain."

"Explain what?" I interrupted, finally gaining the courage to speak.

"Your task, of course."

"Er… Task?"

"That's what I said, yes." I fidgeted uncomfortably. This was not sounding good.

"Look Lady, I don know what you're talking about. I ain't part a no task! Gawd… I'se must be dreamin'!"

"Of course you're dreaming. That's the only way the nutcase and I could come and talk to you. But don't dismiss what I'm about to tell you - it's real. And real dangerous, too." She paused a moment to chuckle at herself. "Ahem. Anyway. You see, an Evil Force entered the city tonight. You may have sensed its presence," I nodded wisely, pretending to understand. "Now, this Evil Force… We don't know exactly what it is - all we know is that if it isn't stopped… New York City as we know it will cease to be." She paused again, waiting for my reaction. I blinked again.

"Oh no!" there. That seemed to satisfy her.

"Hate to break it to ya, Racey, but for the past.. Um, long time, you haven't exactly been in control of your life." 

I started to ask how she knew my name, then decided that anyone who can appear in another's dream could certainly know their name.

"What are you talkin' about?" 

"New York City - as we know it - is controlled completely by fanfiction authors. Yes, I know that you don't understand that. Just think of the people that write articles for the World - now picture them as younger girls sleeping in alleyways and plotting out your lives. Strange, I know. But true. No - don't argue. It's TRUE! Most of the random New Yorkers you've met within the past… Um, long time, have been of their creation. They _run_ this world! Without them… There is none." 

"Ok, ok, as much as I don't wanna believe dis… I do get what yer sayin'," I admitted. My heard was spinning. "So dese authors plot out our lives, yadda yadda… Where do I come in?" 

"I was explaining that," Falco reminded me. "The Evil Force that broke through the barriers tonight placed a heavy Writer's Block on all of the City's authors."

"Ouch! So aren't dey all, like, dead now?"

"Not a real block - Writer's Block is when an author has nothing to write about, basically. She or he cannot figure out where their story is going to go. It's a horrible, horrible disease."

"So… Wid dis Writer's Block… The authors can't write about us… So nuttin will happen… And…"

"Bang. Exactly. Like I keep saying, the City will cease to be. Snuffed out of existence. Bam. Boom. Done. Zip. Nada. Gone. Dead."

"And da Newsies…?"

"With no one left to write about you? Oh, you'll all be gone too."

"Dis can't be happenin'…" 

"Oh, but it is." 

I groaned and buried my face in my hands. This was the strangest thing I'd ever heard of - but there was something about the girl that made me believe her. Anyone who can glow should be believed, in my esteemed opinion. 

"'ow long do we got?" 

"We? Hon, we want no part of this. There's a Patriots game on TV in 2002 and we're off to watch it after we get you situated. I'd say you've got a little more than a week." 

That's when Blink woke up.

"Race! Would ya quiet down? I swear, you'se talkin' to yourself so… Hellooooo there!" his tone changed considerably as he spotted Falco. 

"Splendid!" she smiled. "Kid Blink can help you! Oh, this is going to work out perfectly," she patted Blink on the head and turned to leave.

"Wait!" I cried, toppling out of bed. "Who are ya anyway?" she turned.

"We're authors as well."

"So why aren't ya affected wid this Block thing?"

"We already had Writer's Block, so it didn't harm us. Now, it's game time. Good luck!"

"No! I still don't know what to do!"

"It's simple. Just travel around the districts of the City, find the authors, and cure them! I'm missing kickoff! Any other questions?" I slunk to the floor. Blink started to speak, but Falco quickly cut him off.

"Good! If you're ever knocked unconscious again, we'll make sure to check up on you." She crawled out the window and disappeared. A few moments later she dove back in, ran out of my sight and returned dragging Keza, who was yelling -

"So long Pieeeeeee!" 

And then they were gone.

"Race, you gonna explain or should I just go back ta sleep?" Blink growled, his normal grouchiness returning. I sighed. Then I explained to the best of my ability. He seemed to understand - or at least was good at pretending - and we both agreed to sleep the rest of the night off and think about it in the morning. 

"But Race… If we're dreamin'… Wouldn't we already be asleep?" I screwed up my eyes and tried to think of an answer.

"True… So… If we fall asleep in dis dream.. We'll wake up, right?" 

"Too confusin'…"

"Way too confusin'…"

+

****

Next Chapter: Race and Blink go off to scour Manhattan! 


	2. The Search Begins!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

A slightly deranged fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

****

A/N: Ark! So many profiles! Don't worry, even though mean FFN took down the story and suspended me, (glares) I still have all your profiles and such. If you sent me a profile, you _will be written in!_ I'll do it somehow! So don't fret! Review instead!

****

Last Chapter: Race's 8th or 9th sense - he can never remember which one - wakes him up in the middle of the night. He is knocked unconscious by a random block and dreams about two not-so-heavenly bodies that come to visit him and tell him about a Dark Force that has taken over the land (city). Race enlists Blink to help him, and they're off!

+

"Listen," Blink said over a mouthful of oatmeal. "I still dunno what the hell we doin', but if it gets us outta sellin', then it's fine by me," he paused a moment, thoughtful. "Uh… Say Race, 'ose payin for dis stuff anyway?" 

"The food? Oh, it's on the house. See, I told de ownah of Tibby's that we was on a mission from God."

"Ahr we?"

"Well, shoah! I mean… Dey LOOKED like angels, right? I'll have some plain bread, please… Toasted. Yeah. Nuttin else. Thanks," I reminded a nearby waiter.

"Well… I guess," Blink agreed doubtfully. 

"So, alls we needs ta figger out is how we're supposed to find dese people."

"And cure dem."

"Right. Any ideas?" Silence. "Grand."

"I guess we should just start looking," Blink said as he drowned a glass of water. "Maybe some of the authors are heah in Manhattan, right undah ah noses…"

+

Blink squinted up at the street sign. I finished lighting his cigar and joined my friend.

"Nevermind that. Whats'ername… Falco… Said dese crazy goils slept in alleys and such. Let's start there." Blink shrugged and followed faithfully. I strode up to the nearest alley and took my cigar out with one hand, using the other to cup around my mouth. "'Ey! Authors! Any authors in dere?" I stopped and turned to Blink with a shrug. Blink motioned to me to keep trying. "GOILS? WRITAHS!" I obliged. 

"Dis is goin' nowhere."

"Tell meh about it." 

Blink slumped against the wall of a near building and lit a cigarette for himself. 

"Aren't these authors supposed to be, like, _swarming _da city? Why not just wait for dem to come ta us?" I took a satisfying drag on my cigar, face scrunched up in thought. I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get any words out, a small doll fell from the window above Blink's seat and landed with a _thud _a few feet from the us. Moments later a mini eye patch fluttered down and settled to the pavement. A screech erupted from the window.

"NOOOOOOO! BLINKY!" Blink's head whipped around to face me. The clatter of heavy boots was heard as we listened and tracked the runner's progress from the third floor to the street. Moments later a side door burst open and an average sized girl with dirty blonde hair came flying out. She skidded on the street and grabbed for the doll, which Blink realized looked exactly like a smaller version of himself. The girl picked up the doll and cooed at it happily, then located the eye patch and tied it back onto the doll's head. Her priorities taken care of, she finally took notice of us. I took another much needed drag on my cigar as she sized me up. Could this be one of the authors? Or was it just a coincidence that she had a doll with frightening resemblance to Blink? 

She seemed to recognize me, and nodded with a satisfied air. When she turned to Blink, however, that air disappeared and they both went down in a flurry of arms and legs. I coughed on some smoke and hurriedly helped Blink remove himself from the girls grasp. Blink stood shakily and pointed at the girl.

"What… I…Er… Uhhmggnn… Who ARE you?" he finally managed to sputter. The girl picked up her Blink-doll and smiled.

"Spitshine! How ya boys doin'?" Blank stares from us. "Uh… Boys?"

"Are you an author?" I finally blurted out. She shrugged.

"Well, shoah. Or… I was," she added, sober for a moment.

"What happened?" me again. 

"Well… I dunno. Ya see, last night I was woikin' on one of me new fics… Then something happened and BAM all my ideas went whoosh. Out da window. It's 'orrible! Not even Blinky heah could give me any ideas," she smiled down at her doll again. Blink (the real one) looked sick. I smirked. 

"Well hon, you'se in luck. Me and Blink heah are goin around tryin to help writahs like yourself. You know, get riddah dat writahs block and all."

Spitshine's face absolutely lit up. 

"Aw, grand! Uh… Hows ya gonna do that? Is dere some… Potion or something?" I sighed.

"Well, dat's the problem. We dunno how to cure you all. Any ideas?" Spitshine smiled evilly and directed her gaze at Blink, who immediately groaned. 

"Race…" 

I chuckled. Spitshine surveyed her idol for a little longer, then turned back to me.

"Yeah, I gots an idea. Just, ah… Leave Blink heah wid me for the aftahnoon? Maybe he can help me," she said, spitting in her hand. I spit in my own and shook it.

"You got yerself a deal! Blink, quit yer whining!" I smirked again, tipped my hat and ventured off. "See you in a bit, Blinky-boy!"

+

'Maybe this'll be easier than I thought,' I mused to myself. I had just stopped to look over some flowers when I heard a familiar name shouted out.

"Skittery! Skittery! Skittery! Skittery!" and so forth. Thinking this could be another author, I waved goodbye to the flower seller - I think her name was Yorkie or something - and attempted to follow the source of the noise.

My ears led me to the mouth of an extremely dingy looking alley. The noise had stopped, but I could see a huddled form crouched against a wall, so I strode confidently forward.

"SKITTERIEEEEEEE!" the figure lept up and yelled this name like a war cry. The next events happened to fast for me to follow - all I knew was that a few seconds later I was hopping around with a sore toe and a bloody nose.

"What da HELL was dat fer?" I growled, glaring at my attacker. She stood a few feet in front of me, black hair a mess and green eyes boring into me. Suddenly she relaxed, a confused look on her face. She touched a hand to her head with a frown, then spoke quietly.

"Wha… Huh? What just happened?" she studied me closely. "Hmm. You'se aren't Mickey."

"Uh, no… I'm Racetrack," I said, limping forward. "And you?"

"Derby," she said, shook my hand, then motioned around. "Welcome ta my home."

"It's a noice place," I ventured, trying to think of a way I could steer the conversation towards my goal. 

"Yeah, well, it's usually nicer, ya know? Usually I can write in what it looks like. But, ah, I can't even do DAT now! Somethin happened, Race me lad. Somethin 'orrible."

"You'se a writah?" I repeated. "Writah's Block, right?"

"Yeah, how'd ya know?" she looked troubled.

"Ah, well, me and Blink - you know him?" she nodded.

"Of course. I write 'bout you boys all da time!"

"Yeah, see, we'se on a quest to help all of you'se. The writahs."

"I'm not the only one?"

"'ell no! De only thing we're havin' trouble wid… Is the cure."

Her face fell. 

"But we did cure one already! Uh… Spitshine was 'er name, I think. A little psychotic?"

"Ah, Shinah! Lovely. Well, maybe then you'se could cure me too," she sat against the wall and pulled out some stained pieces of blank paper and a pen. "Tell meh… What was me boy Skittery doin' dis mornin'?" 

"Er…" I hesitated - what was she gonna do, stalk him?

"Come on!"

"Ok, ok… Uh, he woke up…"

"Keep talkin', dammit!"

"Jesus! Calm down goil. 'e woke up… Teased me with dat damn towel," a cackle from Derby, cut short with a glare from me. "It's not funny anymore! Den he tried shut me in the bath stalls, an'…"

"That's it!" she shrieked, tackling me in her glee. "That's it!" 

"Ow…"

"Ahahahah! Why didn't I see it bafore?" she sat back on her heels and grinned at me. I gulped.

"See what?"

"You and Skittery _belong _in a slash together!" I didn't know what she was talking about, but I had heard some of the other Newsies mention it.

"Derbah! Remember dat most of de stuff you write actually _happens _ta us?!" but Derby ignored me and started writing as fast as she could move her hand.

"Thanks Race, you're a doll. But I'd really like it if ya'd shut up an' let me write?" I grumbled a good bye and limped out of the alley.

I wonder if Spitshine is done with Blink yet?

+

"LOOK OUT!" I instinctively dove out of the street, cursing as I hit my injured toe on a wall. A black horse galloped wildly past, barely hitched to a carriage, on which a tall girl with lots of curly brown hair was riding. She giggled like a maniac as she flew past. About a block down, the horse was pulled to a stop. She jumped off the carriage and was about to enter a building, when I finally decided what to do and yelled at her to stop. She turned around, frowning, then shrugged and trotted over.

"Sorry Race," she explained breathlessly. "I was feeling so frustrated, I just 'ad to go fer a ride ta clear me mind… Then everything got outta control, an' here I am."

"Yeah, yeah, I was gonna introduce meself but I guess ya saved me the trouble," I was still a bit disturbed that all these people knew who I was. Though I guess I should've accepted it by now. "So who'se you?"

"Crunch. Like Crutch, but an 'N' instead of a "T." Like cinnamon toast, the taste you can see."

"Nice rhymin'. So you'se a poet?"

"Naw. Jus' yer run o' da mill writah."

"I see."

"Wid Writah's Block," I nodded wisely and explained my mission.

"So you cured de oddahs?" 

"A few - but wid really strange ways," I explained, then paused, remembering Derby. "Say… Whaddah ya say about me n' Skittery in a slash story?"

"Um. No? Why?" she gave me a strange look. Like I was mental, or something.

"Uhhh… Jus wonderin'? Ha… Ha… Hah?"

"Right. So you'se gonna 'cure' meh or not?" I sighed.

"I'm thinkin,' I'm thinkin'!" Longer pause. Crunch started tapping her feet and humming quietly to herself. Without thinking, I joined in, making up words as I went.

"Ah, if only life were a musical," Crunch said with a sigh. Pause. Eyes widening. Smile dawning. "HAH! Life _can _be a musical!"

"Well, der, you'se da one who writes it."

"I know!" she picked me up and squeezed me, then set me down with an evil grin. "You know Racey, there's an extra, ah… Floor space in my tenement…"

"Ohhh, no! You jus' write dat musical, I have to, uh… Find Blink!" she pouted, then shrugged and started skipping away.

"Oh, and Race!" she called over her shoulder. "You see Skittery - tell him that Crunch wants to she him!" She laughed and disappeared into a dingy building. 

I lit a cigar.

+

"He's mine!"

"Don' even start! You do NOT wanna see me angry."

"Hah! Is dat a threat, goil?"

"You betcher ass it is."

"Yeah, well, at least I can write about oddah people den Mush!"

"Dat just shows me undyin' love fer him!"

"I swear, you'se write anuddah romance about 'im, and I'm yankin' it."

"Hehehe."

"What?"

"Yank! You said Yank. AhhhhHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA."

I watched this exchange from a safe distance, unseen so far. The first who had spoken, a rather short, freckled girl with streaked brown hair, rolled her eyes and playfully pushed the other aside. Unfortunately, the second girl didn't take it as a joke. Her brown eyes flashed angrily, and soon a scuffle broke out between the two. 

"It's always Mush, ain't it?" I muttered as I stepped in to break the fight up. "Ladies, ladies!" Then a stray punch thrown by the second, taller and darker girl, hit my temple and everything with black.

+ + +

_"Racetrack, you moron. Falco, I TOLD you we shoulda employed Pie-eatah for this job. He's the only one clever enough to-"_

-smack-

"OW! Now, that was totally and completely unne-"

"Will you stop babbling? We only get a few minutes to talk to him. Jesus."

"Yeah, yeah…"

"Uhh… Not you two," I muttered, opening my eyes to see Falco and Keza standing before me. They were glowing again. I must admit it had a cool effect.

"And we love you too," Falco said. "Anyway, we're just dropping in to congratulate you… Nicely done so far! But you still have a lot of terrain to cover, so try not to start any chick fights?" I tried to protest.

"Start??? I didn't start-"

"Yes, yes, we know. Just cure them however you may, and move on."

Keza nodded her agreement.

"Oh, and next time you see Pie, tell him…

"Keza. Let's go."

"But-"

"NO."

-poof-

+

"Oh, now ya've done it, Shortie."

"Shut up. Race, you'se ok?" I groaned and sat up. Now the two girls stood before me, looking worried.

"I's fine, fine… Who ah you goils?"

"I'm Shortie," the… shorter one said.

"And I'm Tuffy," the other added. 

"I love Mush," Shortie said quickly, beaming at me.

"Maybe, but I love 'im moah, and-"

"GOILS!" I shouted, staggering up and trying to stop this thing before it started again. "Don worry, I know you'se obsessed wid Mush an' everything, which is kinda scary, but I'll let it pass."

Two sets of eyes glaring now. Whoops.

"Ya know, I think I'se likin' 'im better UNconscious!" Tuffy remarked, though the edge on her voice could not be confused with sarcasm. Definitely not. I backed up slowly. 

"Uh… Goils? Don' hurt me, I'm heah to help ya."

"You know where to find Mush?"

"Um. Don't you'se have Writah's Block?"

"Oh, that," Shortie waved her hand dismissively. "Minor detail. We can't find Mush ANYWHERE, don't ya understand? Now, DAT'S major."

"Well, 'ow did ya used ta find Mush?"

"Oh, we'd write 'em in somewhere," Tuffy speaking now. She smiled innocently. Shortie glared. I figured there must be a major feud between them - about Mush - and decided not to pursue it.

"Splendid. But I need ta know what I'se can do ta help you ladies git rid of yer Writah's Block. Possibly not involvin' Mush? I dunno where 'e is." 

"I'm dry."

"Me too."

I sighed. This wasn't going to get us anywhere… Unless…

"Say, you goils ever thought about woikin' _togeddah _on a story?" Simotaneious protests.

"No, no, really! You'se both got dis t'ing wid Mush, right? And I'm shoah cooperating every once in awhile would hoit eithah." 

"Well," Shortie began hesitantly. "I guess we _could_ try it…" she looked at Tuffy for approval. Tuffy just shrugged.

"Shoah, why not? But it still don't solve our Writer's… 'ey! I jus' got an idea! An honest idea!"

"Well dat's a first, considerin' all you'se ideas before have been stolen from-"

"Goils…"

"Er… Sorry Tuffs. 'ey, can I call ya Tuffs? Listen, les' get ta woik!" 

And so they ran off. I tipped my hat to their backs, sucked on my cigar for a moment, then set off to meet up with Blink.

+

"So, it woiked?"

"Oh, it definitely worked! She's burstin' wid ideas now. An' hey, ya know, she can do the coolest t'ing wid 'er tongue…"

"Yeah, you'se already told me. 'Spitshine can make 'er tongue into a bunny's head! Spitshine shined my shoes! Spitshine this! Spitshine that!" I rolled my eyes. Having not met up with any of _my_ admirers so far, (in theory, I should have some) I was getting a bit cranky. Blink pouted.

"She was cool, ok? Jeez. Rain on my parade. I mean, I cured her after all."

"And I thank you'se for it. Now, it's gettin' late and we still gotta lot of Manhattan to covah! Let's go!"

+

Thus ends, chapter two. Read, enjoy… And review!

HAH! Take THOSE mad poetry skills!

****

Next Chapter: The duo is back together, and the world may pay the price! Haha - but really… Race and Blink hurry to finish 'curing' Manhattan before the dreaded… CURFEW!

****

To the Featured Authors of Chapter Two: Which included, if you're keeping track… Spitshine, Derby, Crunch, Tuffy, and Shortie.

****

Spitshine- You'll have to teach me that bunny-head trick. Hehehe.

****

Derby- Race and Skittery is an extremely odd slash pairing, keep in mind I wrote this all pretty quickly, so sorry if that was awkward! Especially if you don't write slash, which I don't think you do… But I could be wrong. Hoh boy. -_^

****

Crunch- Turning life into a musical. -sigh- it's one of my greatest ambitions. 

****

Shortie/Tuffy- Hope you guys didn't mind being paired up! It was rather fun to write your dialogue, but if you strongly disagree with anything I wrote about you, please tell me in e-mail/review. Same goes for anyone else… Since I don't know most of you very well, deepest apologies if I offend you or anything - just tell me, and I'll fix it reeeal quick!

****

Also- I wrote most of this tonight, any gaping plot holes/mistakes… Sorry! Ark.

Until next time…

-Keza


	3. Nighttime in the City!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

A slightly deranged fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

****

AN: Hehe. Hehehe. Hehehehe. Ahem. 

****

Last Chapter: Race and Blink successfully cure beloved FFN authors Spitshine, Derby, Tuffy, Crunch, and Shortie! Huzzah! And they're only warming up…

+

"I dunno Race," Blink said nervously. "It's gettin' dark… Strange people walk da citah in the dark! Besides, we'se got a curfew ta keep in mind!"

"Aw, ya wuss. Kloppman won't care," I muttered, although the night was getting to me as well. But we didn't have much time! I knew we had to finish Manhattan that night, I just knew it.

"Uh, besides! Maybe de authors… 'ibernate durin' the night! Ya know, only come out durin' da day?"

"Blink, will you'se calm down? Hey… This isn't about your stupid 'fear of the dark' t'ing, is it?" Blink's eyes widened, and he looked around quickly.

"RACE!" he hissed. "I TOLD you'se not ta mention dat!" I chuckled.

"Right, right, sorry."

We continued shuffling down the street, Blink checking behind his back every so often while I peered in different alleys and windows. Yeah, windows. 

At the moment I was balanced precariously on a flower box, my face smushed against some dirty glass.

"Blink! Git over here!" I whispered, motioning wildly with one hand. 

"Race! What da hell are you'se doin'?"

"Shush - I think I see an author. Or somethin'. She's sittin' in dere with some strange box, jus' starin' at it… But dere's pens and stuff surrounding her."

"Lemme see!" Blink protested, climbing up onto the iron fence surrounding the tenement and leaping to join me at the window.

__

WHUMP!

"Oog…"

Blink, the flower box, and I lay in a tangled mass under the window.

"You moron."

"Uh… Race? I think my cigarette is catching the flowers on fire."

"Hahah- HOLY! Get offa me! Get offa me! Ahhrg! Jump on the flowers! Git the fire out!" the window opened.

"Hello boys. Might I ask what you'se doin' setting flame ta me flowahs?" I looked up to see a small girl with short brown hair and brown eyes leaning out of the window and smiling good naturedly at me.

"Uhhnnn…" I replied with my usual eloquence. 

"T'ought so," she disappeared for a moment, then came back and dumped a pot of water out the window. Most of it landed on Blink, but a few drops put out the fire as well. "Come on in," she invited. I looked a Blink and shrugged, then we both re-hopped the fence and entered.

I explained our mission, she gave us cookies, life was grand. Turns out her name was Bookie, and she was big into writing romance stories. Suddenly some of my recent relationships were beginning to make sense. 

"I t'ink it's great an' all, what you'se doin'… But I don't have Writah's Block. I gots all KINDS of ideas righ' now!"

"So why ain't you writin' 'em down?" Blink asked, taking another cookie.

"Close your mouth when you eat!" she scolded. I hid a grin with my cookie. "Why ain't I writin' em? Cause I ran outta papah, dat's why!"

"Eh?"

"Most authors write dere fiction on a computah," she explained, pointing to the strange box I had seen her staring at earlier. "But I have ta write it on papah beforehand - which wasn't a problem until now! I jus woke up and all da papah was gone!"

"The Evil Force must've stolen it!" I observed wisely. 

"Not only dat, I can't leave meh house! Meaning I can't buy moah papah. I'm stranded."

"What can we'se do?" 

She flashed another smile, a hopeful one.

"Could you… Strong, strong boys go out and find some fer me?" Blink preened. A smile came to my face as well.

"Shoah!" was the simultaneous answer. 

"Well, chop chop! I can't be kept waitin', ya know!" she said as she ushered us out the door. Blink jumped down the stairs, and I was about to leave when a hand on my shoulder stopped me. I didn't turn around, but could feel Bookie's breath on my neck.

"Ya know, Racey… I t'ink Blink is old enough ta find some papah by his self, eh?" my eyes widened at the suggestion - my expression must have been comical, because Blink starting cracking up.

"Umm… Maybe latah? Gotta go!" I squeaked. Damn - did my voice crack just then?

I sprinted away with Blink, Bookie calling after me all the way.

"I got some!" Blink cried triumphantly. We had managed to dash into a paper goods store right before it closed. "Hey," he muttered, tugging at his prize - but holding on to the other end of the package was a short girl with shoulder length brown hair. She refused to let go. "Uh, 'scuse me, could I have me papahs?" Blink asked politely.

"No. I had it foist!" she shot back, yanking the paper out of his grasp. She staggered backwards as he let go, and once she had regained her balance, resumed glaring at us. Blink narrowed his eyes, but said nothing and simply took another stack. We walked up to the counter.

"Uh… Race? You got any change on ya?"

"Don't tell me…"

The clerk looked down his nose at us.

"Are you boys going to pay?" I groaned.

"We can't cure her if we don't get the papah, and we can't get the papah cause we don't have any money! Deah me…"

"I'll pay foah it," a voice said behind us. The girl from before stepped forward, icey blue eyes daring us to object. The clerk tapped his fingers idly. 

"Well, hurry up, I need to close!"

"Hoild your hosses!" the girl snapped, flipping some coins onto the counter. She turned and left. Blink and I looked at each other, then I grabbed the paper and ran after her.

"Who are you?" I asked breathlessly once we had caught up to her, mainly because referring to her as "the girl" was getting tedious. 

"Spin," she replied, automatically spitting in her hand. "Now can I go? I have to get writing."

"You can write?"

"I'm quite e'jahcated, for yer informa-"

"No, no, nevahmind, I didn't mean it like dat. I mean… Don't you got dat Writah's Block thing that's been goin' around?"

"How you'se knowin' about dat?" she demanded. "I mean, you'se just a newsie…"

"Hey!" Blink protested. Spin ignored him.

"Listen, it's kind of a long story… Could I just say dat we know all about dis t'ing, and we've been tryin' ta help you authors get rid of it?"

"Go ahead, I'm not stopping you."

"Well I'se not gonna repeat myself!" I closed my eyes. This was getting difficult. "An' why'd you buy us dose papahs?"

She shrugged.

"Help a fellow street kid. Is dat a crime?"

"Nevah mind…" 

Blink stepped forward now. 

"Look, Spin, we're jus tryin' ta help. Why don't ya let us?"

"Oh, yeah, lot's a' help here!"

"Spin-"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry," she muttered, staring at her beat up shoes. There was a nice, long, awkward silence. 

"So what's worked in the past?" she asked finally. I shrugged.

"Well, lessee… With the exception of ol' Blink and Spitshine-" I paused to chuckle. "It seems everyt'ing's been followin' a pattern. People tryin' new t'ings. Yeah, that's it. That's what's been happenin'!" I stopped again, this time to marvel at my brilliance. I really outdid myself this time. 

"Whaddayah mean?"

"Well… Derbah tryin' a slash with me and Skittery - whatevah that means-" Spin snorted. "- Shortie 'n Tuffy woikin' together on a story, Crunch writin' a musical…"

Spin and Blink both nodded their understanding. 

"I see whatcha mean dere. But what can I do that's all new and stuff?" she sighed. "I guess I'm gonna be needin' a little help."

The street lamp above buzzed to life, showering us in a curtain of light. Spin's eyes widened.

"HEY! I jus' got an idea!"

"Buhh… But… You didn't try anyt'ing new!" I protested - no! My theory couldn't be proven wrong so quickly! Spin grinned.

"Shoah I did. I ast fer help!" she chuckled deviously and ran off. 

"Nevah ast fer help? That's disgusting," Blink muttered. I continued staring after her retreating back. My, what strange people we've met.

+

"Racey! I was hopin' it'd be you!" Bookie opened the door and pulled us inside - or at least pulled me inside, then tried to shut Blink out.

"Um. Bookie, Blink has the papah."

"Damn," she grumbled. "Always complications…"

Blink shoved himself inside.

"Hey, Bookie, I'se thinkin' your door has problems. It closed on me face!"

"Thanks again, boys! I'll get the story to ya when it's finished… Oh, and Race-"

"Already out da door! Sorry Bookie!" I waved over my shoulder and hurried around the block. Blink caught up with me a half minute later and stood smirking while I caught my breath.

"Don't like dose admirers so much now, eh?"

"Oh, shaddap."

+

"HEYYY! GET-GET-GET-GET-GET OVAH IT!" _Bam!_

"Eh?"

Across the street, a tall, blonde girl stumbled out of a smoky tavern. Shouts followed her out… She just laughed and continued singing drunkenly. 

"Uh oh…"

"Lot of fooools…. LOT OF FOOL SCUM BAAAGS! Uhhnn… Blahh… DEEE DEDEDE.. LALA… De da…."

"Um. This looks like trouble, Blink. We should probably… Go check it out or something."

"Ok, go. You go."

Sigh.

"Fine."

I hurried over and intercepted the girl's path. "Hello Miss…"

She looked down and grinned, then slung an arm over my shoulder.

"Hello shhir," she slurred. "It'sa lurvely night, wouldju not agree?"

"Um," I ducked out of her grasp. "Absolutely beautiful, but-"

"An' what's a nioce gal like you doin' in a place like dis… Wait, Race?"

"Jack?"

"What are ya doin' wid Slackah?"

"What are you doin' heah?"

Pause.

"What, a guy can't have a drink once in awhile?"

"I was jus' tryin' ta help 'er…" Slacker blinked out of a daze and focused in on Jack.

"Helloo… Jacky-boy!" 

Uh oh. 

Blink joined us now.

"So is she an' author or what? Oh, hey Jack."

"Heya Blink."

"Dunno," I admitted. "It's pretty possible. She seems ta know us. And I'se not seein' too many lady at taverns this late. So somehow she's dif'rent." 

"Is you sayin'… I'se notta lady?" Slacker poked me in the chest, then leaned forward and we both collapsed to the ground. She giggled like a maniac. "Silly Racey… I'se NOT a lady. I'se a writah." 

Pause.

"Could I'se be a lady too?"

"Um, why not?" Jack now. "Heah Slackah, let me take ya home…"

"Wait Jack!" I said as I scrambled to get up. "If she's an author, den she has Writah's Block - probably why she came ta get drunk tonight. So we needs ta cure her." Blink nodded firmly.

"Yeah."

"No, no, you silly boys…" Slacker waved her hand around and nearly knocked Jack out. "I'se cured meself. Gotten Writah's Block a lot, ya know? A few gallons o' da good stuff and I'll be foine in da mornin'." 

"Doesn't sound too safe ta me," I said doubtfully.

"Trust meh… Done it a million times… 'course, da hangovah is like hell, but it's worth it, right?"

"Shoah!" Jack said quickly. "Now, let's get you back home…"

"Jus', uh, call us if it comes back!" I called after them. 

"Aw, Racey, don' worry… Da man-eatin' giraffe isn't comin' back any time soon…" she answered loudly, without turning around. I rubbed at my eyes.

"It's gettin' late," I muttered. "Maybe we should start headin' back ta the Lodgin' House."

"Yeah," Blink agreed, and we made our way back.

+

"An' what have we heah?" Blink murmured as we neared the Lodging House doors. Standing outside, head tilted up to study the sign, was a fairly thin girl with auburn hair. 

"I'm tellin' ya," I said back quietly. "Dey jus' flock ta us! I betcha tamarrah we can jus' stay in the Lodgin' House the 'hole day… Dey'll come beggin' fer appointments!" Blink smirked in agreement. We stopped right behind the girl, who had yet to notice us. I tapped her shoulder.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, spinning around. She saw us, then let out a breath and put her hand over her heart. "Come on, boys! Dat's not funny!"

Blink cut to the point.

"What're you doin' around the Lodgin' House… Especially at this time 'a night?" She glanced around, then shrugged.

"Lookin'."

"Yeah? Fer what?"

"Answers," she said simply, looking for a way around us to escape. Blink moved over to block her way. She smiled sweetly at him, and he absolutely melted.

"Blink," I reminded him. "Can we focus on the job heah?" He froze up again and turned read. The girl grinned, then stuck out her hand.

"Athena. Yeah, and I know who ya'll are. Well, nice seein' ya, but I really must be goin'…"

"Goin' ta do what?" Blink countered. "It's not like ya can jus' go home an' write!"

"'ow did you…"

"It's not often ya run inta a lady wid a strange name… That knows AHR names, and is hangin' around ahr Lodgin' House."

"Pretty obvious, den? That I'se an author? Jeez, I gotta woik on dat. I guess I'm outta practice. Haven't been outside me tenement for awhile."

"An' why not?"

"Writah's Block," mumble mumble mumble. 

"Eh? What was dat?"

"Writah's Block!" Sigh. "It's nevah been dis bad before! Usually I get Writah's Block on one of me stories, but then I get an idea and jus' start a new story. Now it's like every idea has been stolen from my mind."

"Well, you'se aren't de only one. A lotta goils have been, ah, comin' down wid Writah's Block in the past day 'er two," I told her. "Me an' Blink heah, we'se goin' around curin' dem!" Blink stuck out his chest proudly. I followed suit. 

"How noice of you! Don't suppose ya could help me?" 

"We could try. An' hey, ya nevah answered the foist question…"

"Yeah!" Blink chimed in, never one to be quiet long. "Why is you heah?" Athena looked down, obviously a bit embarrassed. 

"Well… It's gonna sound silly," she warned us. 

"I'se heard sillier," Blink assured her. 

"Yasee… Usually when I'se dunno what ta write, I come heah… Or someplace else, and watch you boys… Yer antics usually gimmie a good idea, or git me outta a rut. I was tryin' ta figger out a way ta get inta the House tonight - yeah, dat's how desperate I'se for ideas."

"No problem!" Blink said cheerily. "We'll getcha in! Den in da mornin', you'se can get yer ideas and off ya go." 

Athena's eyes widened.

"No, I couldn't do that!"

"Why not? We could hide you'se from Kloppman easily enough."

"But… But… THEN I'D BE A MARY SUE!" she wailed. Blink and I exchanged confused glances.

"But your name is Athena," Blink reminded her. "I mean, I dunno if dat's yer REAL name… But you can still be Athena in da Lodgin' 'ouse." 

Athena gave us a strange look, like we were missing something. Then she laughed.

"Alroight den. Bring me in!"

+

"Bringin' her in was your idea!" I hissed. "So why do _I_ have to sleep on da floor?"

"Shut up, you'se wanna wake da whole 'ouse? Besides, Race, you'se more a gentleman den I am. It was only right for you to give up yer bunk," Blink told me seriously. Then I heard him turn over and chuckle. I repositioned myself on the hard, cruel, splintery, wood of the floor and gave in to sleep.

+

_"Oy! And what has the cat brought in tonight? Is that a GIRL?!" a familiar voice taunted._

"Keza, if you'se think I'm even gonna talk to you, you'se wrong," I grumbled, keeping my eyes shut tight. "Let me sleep in peace!" 

_"Fine, be that way. You aren't the only one who dreams, ya know."_

Then blackness came once more.

+

Thus ends Chapter 3, written over the course of two days and finished on Thanksgiving morning. Mmmm… Thanksgiving means lots of PIE!

OH YEAH and kudos to any who got the Blues Brothers reference in chapter 2, and the 'OK Go" reference in this chapter. I'm just too witty for my own good.

****

Next Chapter: Day two comes, facing our heroes with all sorts of problems… Which region next? How to explain Athena? What to have for breakfast?

****

And to the Featured Authors of Chapter Three: Which included, if you're keeping track: Bookie, Spin, Athena, and Slacker/JLove. If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll gladly edit it. 

****

Bookie: I have plans for you to haunt Racetrack again later. MUAH HAH HAH.

****

Slacker: Wow, I REALLY hope you don't mind being drunk and all. Ironically, I had writer's block on this story after writing Bookie and Spin in, and… Well, that's the first thing I thought of! Hoh boy…

****

Spin: I'm sure you've 'ast fer help' before, but the way you wrote your personality, it seemed like a legible thing to write. 

****

Athena: Nooo! Anything but becoming a Mary Sue! (I'm sure that's a fear all of us face, right? Hehe.)

Over and out…

-Keza


	4. The Plot Thickens!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

A slightly deranged fic by Keza, your favorite Procrastinating Queen

****

AN: It's 7:41pm on Monday night, I'm sick, tired, and have a double entry journal to do. Hell, what am I talking about? I can take more medicine, drink more caffeine, and do the journal tomorrow. Hey, I just realized I've been spelling "medicine" wrong for like five years. Learn something new every day, eh? (Falco appears to drag the rambling author away) TODAY IN SCIENCE I LEARNED THAT PLANTS AND B-(Duct tape is sealed over mouth and author is thrown in the snow)

****

AN2: What else would author notes be for other than rambling?

That was a rhetorical question, Falco.

AND ONTO THE REAL STUFF

****

Last Chapter: Racetrack and Kid Blink officially cure Manhattan (in a day! Wow!) and move onto bigger and better things. Or, um, at least bigger things. No, wait, it's not bigger either. Never mind. They move on!

+

Nothing disturbed the quiet dawn mist. Nothing, that is, save a slight figure crouched on top of the Lodging House roof. The feminine form was dressed almost entirely in black, to match her short hair of a similar color. The only exception was a fuzzy pair of cat's ears perched on her head. They seemed to be attached by a headband of some sort. She carried a moderately sized net, the corners of which were weighted down with small stones. Inch by inch she crawled down the roof, heading towards the nearest entrance to the house, which happened to be a window she had opened earlier. Her legs shook slightly as she eased herself to the window ledge.

"Be a lion, not a mowsse," she reminded herself with a fierce whisper. "A lion!" She paused a moment on the window before slipping into the bunkroom. Klopman's footsteps were heard faintly from the stairs, and she quickly dove into the washroom and hid in a stall.

"BOOTS! Skittery. Skittery! SKITTERY!" and so on.

The boys were just beginning to rise, grumbling and groaning like they always did. Except one.

"I think I'll go for a WALK outside, now! The summer sun's callin' my name!" Pie-eater bounded into the middle of the room, slid on his knees to a stop, and cupped a hand around his ear after this last line. The girl in hiding, or Polecat, (because "the girl in hiding" is much too unwieldy) couldn't resist. 

"I hear ya now," she sang in response, then widened her eyes and clamped a hand over her mouth. Luckily, no one seemed to notice this voice, and Pie-eater just kept singing and prancing around.

"I just can't stay inside all daaa- OOF." 

Itey had pushed Snitch off their at the exact time Pie-eater walked under it. A chorus of "thank you!" and "thank the lord!" chorused through the room. Itey nodded nobly and leapt off his bunk to join the others in getting ready for the day. 

Snitch untangled himself from Pie-eater and frowned down at the boy.

"Heya Pie-eatah… You'se ok dis mornin'?"

"Oh, I'se jus' DANDY!" Pie bounced up, patted Snitch on the head and skipped merrily into the washroom. Snitch shrugged, even more confused when he heard Pie's muffled voice exclaim- " I dunno 'bout you, Snoddy, but I'se had the BEST dream las' night…"

Of course, through all of this, was I sleeping peacefully away? No, I was being used as a rug. Damn boys. Gotta remind them to wipe their feet next time. Now my vest is all muddy!

Athena was sitting on the edge of Blink's bunk, swinging her legs off the side and generally just watching my fellow newsboys as they cleaned up - just like she planned. I noticed a pad of paper to her right, littered with notes. Good. Another one down. 

I got up from my oh-so-comfy position on the floor and absentmindedly grabbed for a cigar. My fingers clawed at empty air, and I sighed, retreating to the washroom to relieve myself.

In theory. 

But I was in for a little surprise when I opened the nearest stall door. A girl in black, with what _looked_ like cat ears on her head lunged forward, knocking me backwards. 

"FUCK! Sorry Race," she apologized quickly, then continued on her rampage, whacking me with a net on the way by. I trust it was an accident. Blinking the stars and birds from my eyes, I glanced up in time to see her catch Snitch with the net and tie him down. No sooner had she done that, however, than a thoughtful look entered her face. She whipped the net off of Snitch with a muttered 'nevermind' and set about ensnaring Dutchy. 

The morning routine halted for a moment as we observed the girl as she set about trying to catch as many of us as she could. Unfortunately, the net could only cover one person. She finally settled on Specs, who struggled wildly and shouted a series of dismayed "Guys! Guys, help! Comeon guys!" No one really moved, except Dutchy, but then Snoddy shut him in a stall. 

"Sorry, it's too amusing," I explained apologetically. 

"Oh yeah, REAL amusing!" Specs cried.

"ATHENA! I know you're in here! Help me carry this bad boy out!" the cat-girl screeched. Athena appeared grumpily, but took an arm and helped all the same. There was a few moments of awkwardness and silence, but then the routine got back on schedule.

Now that I think of it, we forgot to let Dutchy out.

+

"Where we headed to taday?" Blink asked as we left our friends at the distribution center. 

"Brooklyn," I stated. At this point the air in front of us shimmered, and a blonde haired girl stepped out of thin air (or thick air, as we were near some factories). "Uhm," I commented slickly.

"Heya Kez," Blink continued walking and talking as if nothing had happened. Keza has a paranoid air about her, and she kept glancing over her shoulder as she walked with us.

"Hey guys, just to let you know, you're going to Harlem."

"I'se thinking we could do Brooklyn today-"

"Uh, no, you're going to Harlem."

"Er… Ok." 

"Why?" Blink again.

"Cause it'll piss Falco off majorly!" Keza shouted gleefully, then ran off. 

"Probably to find Pie-eater," I remarked.

"Dat _could_ explain 'is dream las' night," Blink pointed out.

"Oh deah…"

+

"Hahlem, heah I am!" I announced. A seagull cawed back, annoyed. "Well, dat's a bit anti-climatic, wouldn't ya say? Blink? Uh, Blink?"

But Blink wasn't in this world, rather, he was off staring at some girl. Again. But this time the girl, a real catch with bright red curls, was staring back and…. Drooling? Ok, that definitely just turned me off. But Blink didn't seem to notice. 

"Holy… Mother Almighty in the Bright and Sunny Sky Above Graced with Doves and Flowers of all Colors and-" _smack! _"Dammit Race! What was dat fer?"

"You'se know, you maniac. Jeez."

The girl looked away for a moment to mop her drool, then approached us. 

"Heya Race… Heya… Kid," she added suggestively. "What are you'se doin' in dese parts?" I made a disgusted noise and wiped some spit flecks from my face as she over-pronounced the last word - on purpose, I swear. 

"Oh, ya know, jus'…" Blink started casually.

"Playin'? Partyin'? Practicin' piano? Pickin' a peck o' pickled peppahs?" I was covered now.

"That's ENOUGH guys," I warned in my special warning voice. Blink and the girl collapsed against each other, laughing their damn heads off. I contemplated using Blink's eye patch to wipe myself off.

"Sorry Race, I couldn't resist," the girl said once she had controlled her giggles. "I always get dis way around me boy Blink, and I guess sometimes I abuse da powah." 

"Race, dis is Tigah," Blink added. "Tigah, Race."

"Spit shake and you'se dead," I muttered. 

"So Kid and I have a bit of a past," Tiger explained as we grabbed an early lunch. 

"Yeah, met 'er last week," Blink confirmed. Tiger elbowed him sharply. "Uhh… I mean… A year ago last week?" 

"Riight. So, you'se an author, eh?" Tiger nodded.

"You'se could say dat."

"So what's yer Writah's Block problem?" 

"Da ink ran, cheap frikkin' t'ing," she muttered bitterly. "I made the mistake of putting a pitcha of Kid where I was woikin," came the explanation a few moments later. "The drool… An'… Da papah… An'… Da ink… Didn't mix too well."

"I see." I didn't, of course. "So wouldn't da solution just be to take away the pitcha?"

"But den… Den I couldn't see me Kid!"

"You'se could look at 'em when you'se wasn't writin'." 

"Oh yeeeeah. You'se right!" she looked astounded. I was hurt. "Well, t'anks Race. I guess I should go see if da fan has dried out dose oddah papahs yet. Tah-tah, boys!" She skipped out, winking at Blink on her way through the door.

"It's always you, idn't it?" I grumbled. "You'se always gettin' em."

"Hey Racey!" a cheerful voice called from the other side of the restaurant. Bookie was standing on her chair, waving wildly.

"BLINK! OUT DA DOOR! NOW!"

+

Something big, bigger than a mere man, must be helping us on this quest of ours. Because I don't think it was just a coincidence that we fell through some rotten boards and literally 'crashed' a tea party. A tea party involving the crazy-cat-girl from before, along with a tied-down Specs, and another girl, taller with brown hair and matching brown eyes. I picked myself up from the debris of the ruined table, apologizing profusely. Blink set about untying Specs.

"Oh, so you'se come in heah, break ah table, an' now you'se gonna take Specsah too? I don THINK so!" the cat-girl snarled, stepping between Blink and Specs. 

"Ah, Polecat," Specs said sweetly. "These ropes really are starting to hurt… Could I just take 'em off for a second or two?" Polecat melted under the newsies' gaze, and nodded for Blink to continue. 

"So anyways, Lightfoot, I'se jus' walkin' down the street, an' who do I see bu- Yes, Race?" 

"Sorry, didn't mean ta stare. But could ya, uh, explain a few t'ing fer me?"

"Like…?"

"Who're you? Whose she? Why da hell are you'se havin' a tea party with Specs!"

"Hey, I wanted no part a' dis party!" Specs protested loudly. 

"Ah, well, I am Polecat," the cat-girl said. "Mrrow. Um, and dis is Lightfoot."

"mmphay," Lightfoot mumbled, then pulled a brightly colored candy wrapper from her teeth. "I mean, Hey."

"She's a strange addiction ta Stahbursts," Polecat explained to me. Lightfoot smiled, then popped a yellow square into her mouth. Dozens of them, all different colors, lay scattered around. 

"And Specs is heah cuz Polecat's got an in-fat-u-a-shun wid 'em!" Lightfoot said gleefully, after swallowing. Polecat smacked her.

"SHUSH. Oh wait, everyone already knew dat. K, nevahmind. Sorry Lightz." 

"It'll change tamarrah though," Lightfoot continued. "What's tamarrah, Wednesday? I t'ink Mush is Wednesdays." Polecat glared. Specs rubbed at red marks on his wrists. Blink smirked, and I just sighed again. I seemed to be doing a lot of that. Sighing, I mean.

"Listen, I don really care 'bout anyt'ing besides curin' you guyses Writah's Block," I told them. 

"Too late," Lightfoot informed me. "Why do you think we was havin' da tea party? It's dis new cure fer Writah's Block. Slackah made it fer us."

"Glad I didn't try any," Blink muttered. 

"Yeah, and it's woikin' great!" Polecat said giddily. 

"Ok, but I still don't get why Specs is heah."

"EYE CANDY!" the girls answered simultaneously, then both passed out.

"Come on, before dey wake up!" Specs hissed, grabbing Blink and me and propelling us out the door.

+

And now it's mid-afternoon, and Blink and I are taking a break in Central Park before we proceed. It turns out Blink actually _did_ try some of Slacker's 'miracle tea,' so now he's sleeping the effects off while I debate on where to go next. Hopefully things will continue as successfully as they've been going.

+

Thus ends chapter four. You know, I feel better now. Though that's probably just the tylenol kicking in. Oh man, I had the coolest dream about David Sidoni last night, so I just had to incorporate it into the story, You know, in the beginning. Yeah. Re-read it. 

****

Next Chapter: Blink wakes up sober (in theory) and the boys frolic off to…. To…. To…

****

And to the Featured Authors of Chapter Three: Which included, if you're keeping track: Polecat, Tiger, and Lightfoot McCoy - If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll edit it quick-like.

****

Tiger: It's ok. I drool sometimes too.

****

Polecat: I meant to put something more in about your head-band ears, but I forgot. Whoops. (You know, like them falling off or something.)

****

Lightfoot: Starbursts are good. Sorry I didn't get anything about Swifty in. He says hi.

Wake me when it's over…

-Keza


	5. Hua!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

A slightly deranged fic by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

****

AN: Ok, to clear up a few things…. 1. My name is pronounced Keh-za. (Mondie.) Yeah, I know it's strange… I made it up for my puppy. -points to fat chocolate lab- 2. I'm not going to accept any more profiles. Sorry guys! Ark. I would, except that I have _so_ many… Really quite overwhelmed, so I can't write in anymore. And jeez, why does everyone want to be from Brook-freaking-lyn? Oh, and 3. I did have a dream about David Sidoni, but no, he wasn't singing that Brady Bunch song. Damn that would've been funny though. 

****

Last Chapter: The boys are rerouted to Harlem, where they crash a "tea" party (and rescue Specs!) and meet up with a mad drooling girl. We left off sitting in the middle of Central Park…

+

Ok. Now I was just plain bored. Blink had been sleeping for a few hours, and I had already done everything I could. Steal his money and get some food, steal his money and buy a paper, steal his money and gamble with two six year olds (haha, suckers!). Now I was bored, and annoyed, because it had been almost two full days since I had spent some time at the races. My fingers were starting to itch. I was going into betting withdrawal. 

"Alright Kiddy, naptime's ovah," I muttered as I pushed my friend off the bench. "Hurry up, wake up, sober up, we're going to Midtown!"

"Groan."

"I know you're excited on da inside. Now, les GO!"

"If I hafta spend da rest of da day at da races, I'se gonna shoot myself," Blink grumbled as he staggered along behind me. 

"Den we'll strike up a deal. I can enjoy the races, you can go find some moah authors." 

"Are you kiddin'? I could get seriously hoit!" 

"Den don't complain."

I marched up to the gates and was about to slip in when a slight form barreled into me. Wide blue eyes turned to stare up at me, then look behind her shoulder with a paranoid air.

"Hua," she whispered. 

"Uh. 'scuse me?" 

"HuA!" she said again, louder this time. She motioned for me to step aside. I did so, and watched as she darted away, long black hair flying. 

"Well, dat was a bit strange-" Blink started to say. He was interrupted by another flying form, the one taller with short brown hair.

"YOU CAN'T HIDE FOREVER, MIS!" the girl screeched, sliding to a stop to wink at us. She scanned the area frantically, apparently looking for the previous girl. I turned to Blink.

"Hey, all _I_ wanted ta do was go ta the races. It's not my fault da crazy goils are everywhere."

"Nevah said it was," Blink muttered, his eyes fixed on the new girl. 

Meanwhile, a small commotion was taking place behind us. The taller girl had apparently spotted her quarry, and had grabbed her by the ankles. Now she was dragging the poor kid out into the middle of the area. Dust flew. 

"Hua!" black-haired girl protested. "Hu. Hua, hua HUA. Ah." 

"Oh, stop yer blabbering," the other snapped. "I'se caught ya and I'se not lettin' go!"

"Hua…"

"An now dese fine gentlemen are givin' us weird looks."

I quickly looked the other way and whistled innocently. 

"Hua? HUA!" black-haired girl cried as she recognized us. 

"Ok, not sure what she's tryin' ta say, but hey. I'se Mondie, dis is Misprint. Nice ta finally meetcha boys. Say, where's Mush?"

"Uh, probably sellin'," I supplied. Her face fell. 

"Dang, an' I had a new box a crayons too…" She stopped to help brush the dust off Misprint, which was a difficult task. 

"I'll, uhm, tell 'em dat," I said, shifting awkwardly. 

"So you goils are authors?" Blink cut to the chase. 

"Hua." I guess that could be a confirmation.

"Yeah," Mondie agreed. "Although _someone_ won't be fer much longah if she don't UPDATE BLOODFLAME!" Misprint cowered with an apologetic 'hua.'

"She always like dis?" I motioned to the said author with a small vocabulary.

"Naw. But I woke up de oddah day, went ta visit 'er, and dis was the only t'ing she could say. It's strange." 

"But ya don't have any problems wid Writing lately, right?" I eyed the gate to the races, wondering how long this conversation would drag out… And if I'd get to go to the races today or not.

"Well, dis lil scab does," Mondie glared at her companion. "Not only can she only _say_ 'hauh' or whatever-"

"Huah," Misprint corrected.

"Yeah, well, dat's the only t'ing she can write too. Watch. Misprint, write dat quote of Davey's ya like so much." 

Misprint crouched back down and pulled out a stick to write in the dirt. 

'H'

"Ok, ok, good, now an 'E,'" Mondie coached. Misprint tried to force herself to write an 'E,' but even with both hands clutching the stick and forcing it along, the letter still changed to…

'U.'

'A.'

"Nice try," Mondie admitted. "Heeere's yer knife! Sorry I stole it," she pulled a small knife out and tossed it to Misprint, who pocketed it happily. 

"Impressive," Blink commented sarcastically. "But what's yer problem? You can obviously say somethin' other dan 'hua.'"

"Hua," Misprint warned.

"Until Misprint updates Bloodflame, I'm dry," Mondie admitted. "So really, it's all her fault."

"Huaaa!" Misprint grumbled, poking Mondie repeatedly in the leg with her stick. 

"Settle down, goils!" I said, rubbing at my temple. "You have some strange cases a' Writah's Block. Hold on while Blink and I try ta think of how ta cure 'em…" Both were snickering at my comment.

"What??"

"Nuttin', nuttin… Settle down, Racey! Heh heh," snicker snicker. 

While we wracked our brains, Mondie sat down with Misprint and started drawing pictures of Mush in the dust. Eventually Blink collapsed and joined them, leaving me to do all the heavy work - as usual. Mondie was carrying on a rather amusing one-sided conversation with Misprint when suddenly a light bulb appeared over my head. Then it shone in my eyes. I stumbled back, temporarily blinded, while a high pitched squeal sounded to my left. Moments later I was engulfed in a hug by a short girl - about my height, actually. Misprint uttered a warning 'hua,' which my attacker ignored.

"RACETRACK RACETRACK RACETRACK RACETRACK!" I blinked spots from my eyes.

"Yes, we're at a racetrack," an exasperated (male!) voice said. "Breeze, what are you _doing!?_" I slipped from her grasp and turned to face her. 

"Uhm."

"Oh, hullo Race," a familiar looking guy with a British accent nodded a greeting.

"Heya Teachah. Haven't seen ya in awhile. Who's dis?" I nodded to the girl, who was shining the mini-light bulb at me again. She crept up close and peered at my face.

"It's definitely him," she confirmed happily.

"Hua," the warning edge on Misprint's voice sharpened. 

"Um," Teacher shot an embarrassing glance at his companion. "That's Breeze. She's my author friend."

"How convenient," Blink drawled, pausing in his drawing adventures. Breeze joined them on the ground.

"I thought you wanted to see the races!" Teacher protested. 

"Shush," Breeze said. "Can't a gal have a lil fun? Heya Mondie. Hows it goin', Mis?"

"Hua."

"I see." 

"She's stuck on Bloodflame," Mondie muttered. Breeze nodded knowingly and set about drawing a stick-figure portrait of me in the dust. I explained our mission to Teacher, who looked thoughtful. 

"Maybe you can help Breeze," he suggested. "I'm not sure how much longer I can take her running around our flat screeching about her Writer's Block." I shrugged.

"We can try," I said. "But maybe you can help us wid Misprint and Mondie ovah there. See, da only thing Misprint can write an' say is 'hua.' An' Mondie can't write anythin' unless _Misprint_ writes somethin'. So we'se kinda stuck."

Teacher frowned.

"The poor girl only knows one word? Did you ever think about giving her a dictionary?" he paused to fish a pocket dictionary out of a pocket. Teacher tossed it to an attentive Misprint, who caught the book deftly. 

"Hua," she said in thanks, leafing eagerly through the dictionary. Mondie leaned over and peered over her shoulder. "Hua," she repeated, pointing something out to her friend. Mondie nodded and scratched the word into the dust.

'Chapter,' it said. 

"Well, it's a start!" Misprint snapped at our skeptical looks. Her eyes widened. "HEY! I CAN TALK AGAIN!" she jumped up, grabbed my hands, and started twirling me around. "Oh man, oh MAN! I'se nevah gonna stop talkin' again! Wheeee!" 

Teacher reclaimed his dictionary.

"One down," he remarked.

"Two, actually," Misprint stopped spinning to answer. She probably wouldn't be shutting up for awhile. "Cause if I write moah of Bloodflame, Mondie will be able ta write too."

Mondie nodded in agreement.

"Ok. So dat jus' leaves Breeze," I summed up. 

"Yep." 

Breeze was comparing her socks to Blink's. The two were just having a grand old time. 

"You know," Teacher mused. "You were telling me earlier about how many of the cures thus far have come from people trying new things. This could apply to Breeze as well."

"Translation?"

"Maybe we could get her to write some humor." 

"Seems like a humorous person ta me! What does she usually write?"

"Oh, angst and such."

"Don' know what dat means, but, shoah. Ok. Sounds good. Why don you take 'er home and try dat? Git back ta me if… Uh… It doesn't woik."

"Right," Teacher nodded. "Well, then, we'd best be off. Breeze, dear! LET'S GO!" Breeze looked up from where she was teaching Blink how to use a cats cradle string.

"Bu-"

"Uh, Breeze, we really need ta get back," I said sweetly. "But… I'se see ya some oddah time soon, alright?" Breeze grinned, then engulfed me in another hug before leaving with Teacher.

Blink picked himself off and tried to brush some dust off his pants.

"Well! Wasn't dat productive?" 

I grumbled. "Shoah, shoah. But now da track's closin,' an' I didn't get ta see any races!"

"Les' head back," Blink suggested, slinging an arm over my shoulder and guiding me away. "Maybe we can go ta Medda's tanight."

"Dat _would_ be noice," I admitted.

+

Thus ends Chapter Five, more apologies to Sophie, she knows why. I'll make it up to ya next chappy! 

-smirk-

****

Next Chapter: Race and Blink finally get to relax and fall asleep… But do they get rest even in their dreams? HAH! I think _not!_

****

Annnnd to the Featured Authors of Chapter Five: Which included, for those keeping score: Misprint, Mondie, and the Omniscient Bookseller, a.k.a. 'Breeze.' If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll gladly edit it. Blah blah blah.

****

Misprint: Hua?

****

Mondie: You asked for it!

****

Omni: Teacher just sounded like a dictionary carryin' guy. -chuckle-

Kind of like the good ol' days…

-Keza


	6. Oh boy! More alcohol!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

The fic with a lot of unnecessary exclamation points 

by Keza: Queen of Procrastination

****

AN: Insanely tall glass of soda… Check. 'Avalon' webcomic in a different window (a healthy distraction!)… Check. The Dandy Worhals on Kazaa… Check. Plaid, flannel pants… Check.

Ok. I'm ready.

****

20 minutes, half a glass of soda and three weeks of Avalon comics later… Ok. I'm ready.

+

Some nights, falling asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow is a bad thing. This was one of those nights.

I heard a small commotion to the right of my bed and squeezed my eyes shut tighter.

"I hope by da time I open me eyes, you'se gone," I muttered. About five minutes later I opened my eyes. Keza and Falco were sitting cross legged on the floor next to my bunk, huge grins plastered on their faces. Once Keza noticed I was looking, the grin dropped off.

"Ow. Grinning like an idiot for five minutes does bad things to the jaw."

Falco elbowed her companion sharply. I think the grin was stuck on her face. Suddenly my mattress lurched, and promptly tipped me off and onto the floor. I groaned, and a giddy voice spoke up from the other side of my bunk.

"COOL! I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO DO THAT!"

"Delia!" Keza screeched. "What the f-"

I groaned again.

"Are you doing here?"

"Uh… Ha… Haha… Good question!" said girl, a.k.a. Delia, ran off and pounded down the stairs. Keza helped me fix my mattress.

"Sorry," she apologized. "Delia and I just watched Mighty Ducks 3, and Bombay does that to Charlie. I'm not sure how she got in your dream though." She shrugged. "Anyway, back to business."

****

(AN: Well, hey! I watched D3 earlier today and we were commenting on how fun it would be to flip someone. I couldn't resist. Mike Vitar. Hehe… I mean… Right-o! Story!)

"You're doing well," Keza continued. "Gotten a lot done. But there's still a lot of turf to cover, like Que-"

"LIKE BROOKLYN!" Falco cried, jumping up and nearly knocking her friend over.

"Um, yeah, Brooklyn too. Brooklyn's gonna be a toughie. A lot of authors make their homes there."

Then Falco snapped.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!" she squealed, jumping in a circle around Keza, who looked sick.

"What I was going to say was that you might want to save Brooklyn for last!" she shouted over the noise.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!"

"And do Queens today!" she added. Falco heard this last part and spun to face her, glaring daggers.

"What."

"Uhm… And who are deans to pay?" 

"Oh."

Pause.

"Spot! Spot! Spot! Spot!"

Keza rubbed at her temples.

"Will someone do something for her? Like bash her on the head?"

"Already done," a quiet voice said. Falco slumped to the floor and Keza turned to see Pie-eater, speaking softly and carrying a big stick. 

"Oh boy!" she exclaimed. "See ya later, Racey-boy," she called over her shoulder as she walked out with Pie. I shook my head wearily, dragged Falco's prone form away from my bunk, and fell back asleep… Or… Whatever you do in dreams.

+

****

AN: IT'S MY STORY I CAN DO WHAT I WANT!

+

"She said Queens," I explained. "So we'se goin' ta Queens."

"Aw, great, listen ta a crazy person," Blink grumbled. I think he was just sore that he hadn't witnessed Falco jumping around and screaming "Spot!" Funny, you'd think he'd be grateful. 

We hadn't been wandering for a very long time before we made the mistake of turning onto a new street and trekking down a fairly steep hill. Hills are dangerous. Very dangerous.

"WHEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEEEE!" 

That didn't sound good.

Blink and I turned simultaneously, just in time to see a wheelchair bound girl with insanely long hair come flying down the hill, out of control. I had enough time for a tired sigh before the impact came. 

I picked myself up painfully and moved to help Blink right the girl and her wheelchair - she seemed fine, just dazed. And giddy. 

"What're ya doin'?" she demanded, furiously trying to continue on her rampage. "Don't hold me back!" she smacked Blink's hand, who let go with a yelp, then started wheeling away.

"Wait!" I said while Blink sucked glumly on his knuckles. She stopped.

"As much as I'd love ta chat wid you boys, my Shrine is in dangah. I lose da Shrine, I lose me muses. I lose me muses, POOF da writin' is gone!" he voice bordered between seriousness and plain sarcasm. 

"Uh, writin'?" I must admit my comeback was quite witty.

"Yes!"

"So you'se a writah?"

"No, I'se a peppahmint stick."

"Hey! I'm jus tryin' ta help! Tell me about dis Shrine?"

"Fine," she grumbled. "I'll tell ya as we move."

I waved for Blink to follow, and the journey began.

"Fiction Hobbit, and if dat's too unwieldy, you can call me Midget." 

Blink snorted behind us.

"Watch it, Kid. Anyway, the Shrine." She paused, searching for the right words. "It's kinda hard ta explain it ta newsies… But… Hell. It's a Shrine dedicated ta yous." 

"Me?" I remembered Bookie and Breeze, and prayed she wasn't another obsessee like them.

"Sometimes. I love my newsies. But I could nevah decide which one I loved moah."

"Kinda like Polecat."

She smirked. "Yeah, you'se right. I change favorite newsies like I change undahwear. At da moment it's Skittery. Been him for awhile, actually." She paused thoughtfully. "Hmm… I should probably change my-"

"Ok then!" I interrupted. "So you have a shrine dedicated to Skittery. I've seen worse."

"Have you?"

"Ok, maybe not. But anyway. Ya lost the Shrine?"

"Are you kiddin'?! I'd nevah _lose_ it! It was stolen from me! Dirtah bastards," she added. 

"Who stole it?"

"Dunno," she sighed. "I jus' woke up the oddah day, wid no shrine ta light up me apartment! I'se been lookin' for da thief evah since."

"I guess Writah's Block really comes in many forms," I remarked thoughtfully. 

"I don't have Writah's Block!" Pause. "Wait, you'se have a point. Nevahmind." 

"At least dis one has a simple cure," Blink cut in. "Find da Shrine. Boom. Done." 

"But we don't know who snitched it."

"Ohhhh yeah. I knew der was a catch!"

Tromping around the streets for a few hours, began to get tiresome. I was about to speak up when Blink saved me the trouble.

"Listen, Midget… Hobbit… Lady! We don't seem ta be helpin' you too much. Maybe we should, ah… Try an' find some oddah authors while you continue yer search?" his voice had a plead hidden in there. 

"Yeah, shoah, abandon me why dontcha." 

We both shifted awkwardly.

"I'm kiddin'! Git! Do help someone else! Don't come back 'til you have my Shrine!" she said, stopping for a moment to slap us away. We obliged readily. 

"Jeez, you'd think they'd get the hint ta leave aftah wheelin' in circles for da whole mornin,'" Fiction Hobbit muttered. Still she smiled at the boy's retreating backs before resuming her search.

+

"Johonna! Listen to meee! I'm tryin' ta explain this!"

"I'se not gonna listen until you'se get me name right! It's Jo-anna. Not 'Jo-hannah!'" 

"Right. Dat's what I've been sayin'! Ok, Jo-hannah, so, then the giant-"

Johanna sighed and buried her face in her hands.

"Jus' call me Honor, ok?" 

"Ok, if I call you Honner, will ya listen ta my plot idea?"

"AHHH!" 

"Hey, she said plot idea."

"Anuddah author."

"Should we run now?" 

"Too late, dey already saw us."

"Hey! It's Racey!" the first, a small girl with shoulder-length brown hair, left her conversation and skipped over to us. The other - Johanna/Honor - rolled her eyes and came to join us as well. 

"Blizzard!" the first girl chirped, sticking out her hand. I exchanged glances with Blink, then shook it. 

"Honor," the other said. "On. Or," she added. Hah. Like _we_ needed help with the pronunciation! 

"We couldn't 'elp but overhear part of ya conversation," Blink said casually. 

"The part about you'se bein' authors n' all," I added. 

"Yeah, we'se authors," Blizzard agreed. "An' if she'd only lissen to my idea, I may actually get somethin' written dis year!" she glared at Honor, who shrugged. 

"I 'ave a hard time listenin', ok??" There was a short silence then, which Blizzard filled by showing us all origami tricks she could do with the hankerchief she carried. I was quite impressed. 

Further talking to the girls revealed much - both were Writer's Block victims, yes, they had had it for a few days now. Blizzard claimed that no one would listen to her ideas, while Honor said she had lost her recent project and there was NO way she was going to re-write it.

"I see whatcha mean, Honner-"

"On-or."

"Yeah, yeah. We ran inta Midget a little while ago. She lost 'er Shrine, or somethin' like dat."

"Oohh," Blizzard's eyes widened. "Her Shrine? Man. Dat's 'orrible!" 

"Dat's the impression we got," Blink agreed. 

"Gee, I'se glad my problem iddn't dat big," Blizzard said. "I jus need ta find someone ta lissen ta my ideas." She paused and looked straight at me. I pretended to be busy lighting a new cigar. 

"Someone to lissen… Maybe someone my own height… Mebbe a boy, even…" That's funny, this cigar just won't light! Does Blink have some matches? Nope, none on him. I don't think I can avoid this author's gaze much longer. Honor saved me.

"Look! Here comes Snipeshooter!" she exclaimed. Sure enough, everyone's favorite… Ok, everyone but me… Ok, here came the short curly haired kid! Oh. Snipeshooter was short. So was Blizzard.

"He's the one!" I shouted, grabbing Snipes by the collar and dragging him (kicking and screaming) to join us. "Snipes, you'se done sellin'? Oh good. Cause my friend Blizzard heah has somethin' ta tell you'se…" Blizzard looked hurt, but decided Snipeshooter was a good substitute for my humble self. She smiled dazzlingly at him and gave him a crate to sit on. 

"Ok. So. Then Jacky sells 'is cow right? But only fer some beans…"

"Race?" Snipeshooter looked at me, pleading. 

"Listen ta the goil talk!" I snapped, winked at Blizzard, and moved out of earshot to join Blink and Honor.

"Ok, so dat leaves you, Honner."

"On-or."

"Right. What're we gonna do about you?" 

"Beats me." 

"Why can't ya jus' re-write the frikkin' story?" Blink asked. He gets a little cranky when he doesn't have his afternoon nap. Whoops.

"Do you know how _frustr'atin'_ dat would be?"

"It wouldn't be too bad," I said, although I had no idea what I was talking about.

"Yeah," Blink added eagerly. "I bet you could get it done by tomorrow."

"Is dat a dare?" she looked interested now. Blink and I exchanged a glance.

"You bet yer arse it is!" I said. Honor's eyes sparkled micheviously. 

"I can't pass up a dare," she admitted. "So I'll take it up! Tamarrah! It'll be done. I'll see you boys den."

"Shoah, shoah. We'll be in Manhattan. Or Brooklyn. Or somewhere," I told her. She nodded and skipped off to join Snipeshooter, who was half asleep already. Poor kid.

+

"It's like this, Cat. I mean Snitch. Oh, hey Race," a blonde haired girl muttered. We had stopped at a Queens tavern after seeing Snitch enter. We hadn't counted on him following a girl. And now we were trapped with another drunk author. Life is grand, isn't it? And Snitch just kept buying her drinks, too. I guess he thought it was amusing.

"This is Cards," he told us. "She told me she was havin' a rough day, so I thought I'd cheer her up a bit."

"Oh, she's cheery alright," I muttered. Cards had downed another mug and was chatting amicably away with a scary looking, most likely homeless, man. 

"What can I say? The goil gets drunk easily," Snitch chuckled. "Oh, hey, you'se shouldah seen the t'ing I snatched today!" he added, leaning closer so not to be overheard. He sounded pretty excited. "It's dis big fancy thing, covered with stuff and pitchas and such… All of Skittery! Damn, he's gonna flip!" Snitch cackled. I raised an eyebrow and looked at Blink. Nope, he was too busy talking to Cards about popular methods of torture. 

"Um. Snitch… You'se tellin' me you snitched a Shrine?"

"Yeeeah DAT'S the woid I was lookin' fer! It must be a Shrine."

I buried my face in my hands. Cards moved over.

"Heya Racey, you'se lookin' like you'se needin' a drink. Bartendah! Get 'em… a… drink." She slurred, then promptly fell out of her chair. 

"Haven't I told you'se ta stop givin' authors drinks?"

"Nope."

"Oh. Well, nevah give authors drinks!"

"Well, hey!" Snitch put up his hands in defense. "How was I 'posed ta know she was an author?"

"Didn't she tell you?"

"Good point," Snitch admitted, then lost himself in his own mug again. 

"Dis goil should be already cured, right?" Blink asked after successfully picking Cards up and setting her on the bar. "I mean, with da alcohol."

"I guess," I said doubtfully - it didn't seem to be working yet… She just looked horribly drunk, not 'cured.'

Unfortunately, we hadn't enough sense to keep Cards in our sight at all times. She had wandered off and was now standing on the bar. People were staring. 

"Scuse me, ladie's n' gents!" she announced, swaying slightly. "I'd like ta sing a lil… Ditty for you'se tanight. And it's dedicated ta me best pal… Snitch!" she grinned wildly and pointed in the direction exactly opposite of Snitch. "Whoops… Snitch!" this time she got it right, and Snitch turned a bright red. I coughed on some cigar smoke and motioned for Blink to get Cards down, somehow. Too late, she was already singing. Her voice cracked horribly on most of the notes, and I'll admit that it was pretty damn hilarious.

"You… Are… So beautiful.. To meeeeeeeeee! CAN'T YOU SEEEEE?!" Snitch cowered and slumped down in his chair.

"I… Ah! I didn't know dis would 'appen! Someone make 'er stop!" he hissed at us. 

"We warned you," Blink stated indifferently.

"What? No you'se didn't!"

"He has a point," I told Blink. "I didn't remind him until too late."

"OooooOOOooOOooooOoooo!"

"Boys?"

"Quiet Snitchers, I'm thinkin'. Ok. I'se got it."

"Well 'urry up an' tell me!"

"I LOVE YOU SNITCH!"

"We'll stop 'er if you give us dat Shrine."

Snitch looked puzzled.

"What would you want with dat?"

"Da person you stole it from is a, um, friend of ours," Blink told him. "She misses it sorely."

"Ohh… Well… Shoah, shoah," Snitch crawled under the table and then emerged with a heavy box. "Don' open it," he cautioned. "It scars for life."

"Uhm. Thanks," I said doubtfully, shaking the box. Meanwhile Blink was up on the bar, desperately trying to calm a delirious Cards. 

"Come on," she was saying. "One moah song fer me boy?" 

"No, get down," Blink's voice was noticeably more calm and quiet than the other's. Still, the end result was Blink, Snitch, and I working together to carry her out of the tavern. Some guy gave her a tip on the way out. Drunk bastard. Snitch pocketed the dime and winked.

"She has her advantages."

"Sluggin' you is onna dem," Cards grumbled before passing out cold. 

"Uhm."

We laid her on a nearby bench and stood around silently. 

"Well!" I said brightly, picking up the Shrine-in-a-box. "We haftah return dis! Have fun wid Cards. Her Writah's Block should be gone in da morning. It will be replaced with a lovely hangovah." 

Blink tipped his hat and off we ran.

+

"WE FOUND IT!" Blink screeched, running ahead to catch up to Fiction Hobbit. She stopped and turned.

"Oh? Splendid!"

I picked up the pace and sprinted up to deliver the all-important box of goods. Unfortunately, I didn't see the missing cobblestone, tripped over it, and promptly fell, dropping the box/shrine as I went. Damn. Fiction Hobbit and Blink gaped at the mess around where I had fallen - the box had opened and spilled its contents everywhere.

"I may have to kill you," Fiction Hobbit said, sounding calm. Frighteningly calm. 

"Too late," I groaned, facedown on the stones. "I think I broke my nose. An' my front teeth. An' my… head… ow."

"Kick 'em in the crotch for me?" I heard Fiction Hobbit ask Blink.

"Uhm. That could be kinda strange," Blink replied after a moment's hesitation. 

"Oh, fine," she muttered, then just wheeled over my left hand instead.

"HEY! OW!" I shrieked in a rather high voice, then jumped up. 

"Whoops! Sorry, didn't see your… Uh… Hand, there," she smiled a little too sweetly. Blink kneeled down to help me re-pack the Shrine's contents into the box.

"I don't think anything was damaged," he offered. 

"For yer sake, let's hope not." 

"Exactly what I'se thinking," I said with a gulp, then handed the now full box back to its owner. "There you go. G'luck wid yer writin'!" 

"Thanks, boys!" she said happily, wheeling away. "I owe ya!"

"It's getting dark, and my head hurts," Blink whined. "Can we go back?"

"Yeah, yeah, let's go."

+

Thus ends chapter six. Whew. Finally I finished it. It was quite long, in WBSA standards. 

Hope ya'll enjoyed it. ^_^

****

Next Chapter: Well, it looks like there's only one place left to visit… Yup! BROOKLYN!!!

****

And to the Featured Authors of Chapter Six: Which included, for those keeping score: FictionHobbit, Cards, Blizzard, and Honor. If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll gladly edit it. Blah blah blah.

****

FictionHobbit: I'm finally donnnne! And we _really_ need to work on that story of ours… (muah hah hah)

****

Cards: Blood stained fingers - er, I mean, pomegranate juice. Mmmmm. Don't you love drunken scenes?

****

Blizzard: You put Snipes to sleep! That's not a good sign..

****

Honor: Damn that silent 'h!'

It's Spearmint time!

-Keza


	7. Sacrifice THIS!

**__**

Free Companies Inc. Presents:

Writer's Block Strikes Again!

The fic with a lot of unnecessary exclamation points

By Keza: Queen of Procrastination

****

AN: WOW she's actually updating? Oh man oh man oh MAN! Sorry for the delay… ark, I'm so horrible! But, alas, here it is. Enjoy. Review. Etc. And don't mind the fluctuating accent. I really don't like writing in it.

****

Last Chapter: Oh jeez, does anyone remember what happened last chapter? Well, Blink and Race and an interesting run in with a drunk Cards, some mispronunciation, and… a shrine? Hoh boy. 

+

"I am headin straight ta bed," I announced as Kid Blink and I tromped into the lodging house. "Poker or no poker. Craps or no craps. I'm dead tired, and my hand hurts!" I think Midget had broken a finger. Damned wheelchair. 

"Hey, I'm not protesting," Blink reminded me. "Thought someone said that Snipeshootah and Slidah were playin' tonight."

I brightened up.

"Really? Ha! Those younguns'll be easy game!"

"Though you was goin' ta bed?"

"Shaddap!" 

So in the usual fashion, I took part in a few games of poker before falling asleep at the table. Someone stole my money while I was asleep. There will be hell to pay when this stupid quest is over. 

It was a good night - I wasn't plagued by any dreams, although Pie-eater complained of a restless sleep the next morning. I didn't pity him at all. In theory, Brooklyn was the last borough we had to cleanse. And after that? My sleep would always be dream-free. I was looking forward to it. 

"Brooklyn taday!" I told Blink as we left the following morning and headed towards the bridge. "We're almost done." 

He just yawned. Well, I guess not everyone can be an enthusiastic as me.

We managed to hitch a ride almost to the bridge - cause damn, it's a long walk - and somehow I suppressed my urge to push Blink off the carriage as we jumped off. Oh, but it's so fun! We tromped across the bridge in a casual fashion, though secretly looking around for any authors that would try to attack us. Hey, it's happened before. We got off the bridge without too much trouble (except for that incident with the seagulls…) and stood around pretty awkwardly. By now we knew that if we just stood around, eventually something would happen, and someone would approach us. I felt pretty experienced in this 'curing' thing. 

When still nothing had happened - after oh, about twenty minutes, we decided to take matters into our own hands. I took a few tentative steps towards the nearest alley. Nothing happened. Some girl tried to sell us a flower. Blink declined and she threw it at him and then ran away. 

"Maybe dere aren't any authors in Brooklyn?" Blink suggested. I shook my head. 

"Nah, dere's gotta be! Kezah probably would've said somethin if not."

"True." 

There was an awkward pause. Blink picked up the flower and studied it. He nearly poked his eye out with a thorn. 

Suddenly a scream pierced the air. I grinned.

"That's what we were lookin' for!" I exclaimed. Blink dropped the flower, startled. He sucked on a knuckle (bleeding as the result of the thorns) and followed me as I set off towards the sound of the scream.

Ten minutes later, we still hadn't found anything. Almost knocked over a fruit stand though. 

"I could've sworn it came from this direction!" I insisted. Blink shrugged.

"I thought it came from back there, but whatever you say. Does this look infected?" he asked, holding out his knuckle.

"No," I said without looking. The scream sounded again.

"Ok, this way!"

"Say, that sounded like a guy screaming," Blink commented.

"Who said all the newsie authors were girls?"

"Well, Kez-never mind."

"Besides, who says girls can't have, erm, manly screams?"

"Stop talking while you're ahead, Race."

"Shove it."

"Where?"

The scream again.

"Never mind where, let's go!" 

"You brought it up," he mumbled. I decided to ignore him and jogged off towards where the scream still lingered - near an old warehouse. Hmm. Interesting. We approached the warehouse, where muffled sounds could be heard from inside. I exchanged glances with Blink, then tried the door. Locked.

"Wait!" Blink stopped me from picking the lock. "I've ALWAYS wanted to do this." 

He backed up, then came running at the door. I groaned inwardly - was he going to try to bust it in or something?

_THUD!_

Blink barreled into the door with a meaty thud and fell flat on his back, eyes closed, spread eagled.

"You can pick it now," he rasped. I shook my head disapprovingly and did so. The lock clicked open instantly, allowing me easy access - for Blink it was a little harder…. I had to drag him inside, and he almost got stuck in the doorway. Ah, well…

The warehouse was, to say the least, HUGE! It was just one big room, with an enormous ceiling and unlimited floor space. It was dusty and gloomy and I started sneezing the moment the door was closed behind us. In the middle of the room we could see lights, and what looked like a small bonfire. Who would be crazy enough to start a bonfire in the middle of a warehouse? Oh, right. Writers. Silly me.

"I guess we should check it out," Blink said, back on his feet. 

"Guess so." Neither of us made a move. "You first, o' injured one," I sad with a smile. Blink growled but started walking towards the source of the light all the same. I followed at a safe distance. 

When we came closer it became apparent that there was some sort of ritual going on. There were four people that were chanting, dancing around the middle fire, and throwing things up in the air. A fifth was tied to a thick post near the fire and was writhing around despite their bonds. Blink and I exchanged uneasy glances, but, being the smart boys we are, continued forward.

"Ready girls?" one of the dancers shrieked.

"Ready!" the other three answered.

"Nooo!" cried the one tied.

"Deah Lord, what're they gonna do to that poor kid?" I muttered. 

"Let the sacrificial rites begin!" 

"Ok, question answered!" I said nervously… and to myself. Blink was already trying to stop the event from happening. 

"Eeek what're you doin'?" The girl who had been about to push the tied up figure into the fire struggled under Blink's hold. I ran in to help him.

"What am I doing?" Blink asked in disbelief. "What are YOU doing?" 

"Leggo a' me!" 

"And you won't kill the helpless person?"

"Hrmm… Not yet."

We released the girl. She took a few steps back, glowering, and rubbed her arms. The other three stopped their dance to stare at us. 

"Well?" the girl spoke up again. "What are you doing here?" 

"We heard a scream," I explained. 

"Told ya we shoulda gagged 'em!" Another of the girls muttered.

"You just interrupted something very important," she spat. 

"Shit, Race! It's Spot!" Blink had managed to slide around to the one tied up, and was now slitting his bonds. So _that's_ who stole my switchblade… I focused on the task at hand. Blink would pay later.

"Why would you want to kill Spot? I mean, you'se writahs, right? If anythin', he's only helped ya." 

"Yeah, we're writahs," she agreed. "It's that obvious, huh?"

"We've had a lot of practice."

"Well," one of the girls who hadn't spoken before sided up to Blink. "I'm Sweets." She smiled innocently. Blink finished releasing Spot and backed away slowly - but she wasn't discouraged. 

"Blinky, I haven't seen you forever!"

"Uhh, uh, uh…"

"Don't mind him," I cut in. "He's had some bad experiences - just don't call him Blinky."

Sweets shrugged.

"K then." 

Blink relaxed, then surveyed her curiously.

"Hey, you look familiar!"

She grinned.

"Oh, so you _do_ remember that one night…"

"Erm… no… I mean… I've just seen you before."

"She's Jack's sister!" another, skinny, girl chirped. "Hey, I'm Loud Mouth," she said, sticking out her hand. We both shook it cautiously.

"Oh yeah!" Blink was saying. "Jack's sister. That's right."

"Oh…" Sweets pouted, then sulked off. "Never mind then."

"GIRLS! THE VICTIM IS ESCAPING!" the leader girl from before bellowed. 

"That's Nevada," Loud Mouth informed us. "Oh, and the other one is Riot."

Riot waved cheerfully. I saluted back. 

"COME ON!" Nevada continued. She glared at us. Riot managed to catch Spot and was trying to tie him back onto the pole. They had put a gag in his mouth this time around.

"Well," Riot said. "It was nice chattin' with you boys. But we have a problem, and we're really trying to solve it here, so if you could just… continue on your way, well, that'd be grand!" 

"Uhm, ok, but one more thing - why exactly do you want to sacrifice Spot?"

"Oh, it's not like we _want _to," Loud Mouth explained. "No no no."

"Well, I do," Riot reminded her.

"Yeah, Riot does - she doesn't like him, but anyway, it's not like we _want_ to-"

"Actually, I don't really care," Sweets agreed, once again edging closer to Blink.

"Ok! So Sweets doesn't care and Riot would love to see him suffer, but BESIDES that… we don't really _want _to sacrifice him, it's just that… well… we have to!"

"You have to?"

"Mmm."

"Why?" 

"Writer's Block," all four said simultaneously. 

"Sacrificing such a loved newsie as Spot will surely appease the gods," Nevada told us earnestly. 

"And, so, if the gods are appeased, then they'll take away your Writer's Block?" 

Nevada nodded.

"This is a new one," Blink muttered, trying to shake Sweets off. 

"I'll say," I agreed. "Isn't there another way to do this?"

"What, kill him?" Riot shrugged. "Well sure, we could hang him, or slit his-"

"No, no, I mean, another way to get rid of Writer's Block."

"Oh. Dunno." 

There was a lengthy silence where I pondered the subject matter, trying to think of another way to get rid of the girls' Writer's Block. For lack of a better thing to do, Nevada sat on the ground and put her legs behind her head. 

"I love it when she does that," Riot confided in me. 

"I've got it!" I announced. Everyone looked up - even Spot looked excited… erm, I think.

"Well?" Nevada asked, prodding me with her foot - which was still behind her head. That freaked me out a little.

"Ok, here's what we do…"

For the most part, they listened attentively to my plan, except for a few interruptions…

"Wait, so where are we going to get the ostrich again?" Sweets asked.

"Quiet, I'm getting to that." 

"I don't think there are ostriches in New York," Nevada said doubtfully.

"Ok, we'll drop the ostrich! Just listen!"

As Sweets went to refuel the fire, a loud sound was heard. 

"Door slamming - did someone just come in?" Loud Mouth frowned. A form came into view through the gloom, standing out mainly because of the bright white underclothes he sported.

"Spot? You in here?" he called, then, noticing the fires, trotted towards us. All four girls stared, Blink and I averted our eyes with disgust. 

"Blue!" one of them squealed. Yep, it was Brooklyn's champion swimmer… and still dripping wet. Did I mention he wore a lot of white? A lot of see through white? Spot was immediately forgotten - both by the girls and Blue. Blink and I took this chance to untie him (again). 

"Hey Blue…"

"Hey ladies!"

"I don't know how to swim, Blue…"

"Ooh, yeah, can you teach us?"

"Let's go!" I hissed, stealing out of another door with Spot and Blink. 

"I hope they don't sacrifice him," Spot said as we ungagged him. 

"Nah, I don't think so," I said. "They seem quite… er… entranced by him."

"Yeah, or just his-"

"So Spot, how did you end up in their hands anyway?"

Spot looked embarrassed.

"I don't wanna talk about it, ok?"

"Come onnnn," Blink taunted. 

"No! Oh, damn, Sweets has my slingshot…"

"You can get it later," I assured him. "For now, we should probably get out of here. Or, at least, you should. Blink and I still have some business to take care of."

"Yeah? Well… I guess I owe you. So if you need so help, just call," Spot said, then trotted off.

"Do you think Blue will really cure their Writer's Block?" Blink asked curiously.

"Hell if I know!" I snorted. "But it's definitely possible. And I'm not sticking around to find out. Come on." 

+

Thus ends chapter seven! More apologies for the horrid delay.

Thanks to Cards for helping me out with the 'cure.' Bwah hah hah. 

****

Next Chapter: Don't fret, Brooklyn is only halfway done! And can it get much worse than sacrificial attempts? Oh, it can… it can…

****

And to the Featured Authors of Chapter Six: Which included, for those keeping score: Sweets, Riot, Loud Mouth, and Nevada. If any of you strongly disagree with how I wrote your character (remember I only had that profile thing to go by) then please contact me by review/e-mail/AIM and tell me what's up! I'll gladly edit it. Blah blah blah.

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